Sacrifice of Dignity
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Post-battle, the Avengers are all injured, and Phil must sacrifice his clothes - and dignity - to take care of them until medical help arrives. He's just a bit oblivious to their ogling. Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Marvel or 'The Avengers', nor am I making money from this. Pre-OT7.


"Sacrifice of Dignity"

It was a bad situation.

If there was one thing that could be said for Phil Coulson – and there were many things that could be said for Phil Coulson – it was that he indulged in extreme understatements from time to time. Usually, he kept these understatements to himself. However, as he approached the six superheroes reclining on wreckage, he chose to exaggerate their injuries when reporting over the comms. Anything to get medical help to his people faster. Considering the fires, the smoke, and the large clumps of debris, he needed all the help he could get.

And, as he neared them, he realised that perhaps he hadn't been exaggerating.

"How the hell did this happen?" he asked sternly. Clint was the closest, and he was bleeding copiously from a long, deep gasp on his right leg. Phil pulled off his tie and immediately fastened it, tourniquet-style, just above the knee. Clint winced as the material cut into his flesh.

"Not so tight," he said.

"Don't whine. That'll just make it worse."

"No, it won't."

"Clint, it needs to be tight. Deal with it," Natasha said. Phil half-smiled at her in thanks, finished the knot, and then his head snapped back up. There was blood staining the left side of her body. He hurried over the rubble and forced her hand away. She must have hit something sharp, because her side was nearly split open. He pulled off his jacket and pressed it against the injury.

"Hold it there," he said. She saluted, and he gave her his best withering glare.

"The others are injured as well," she said. Phil looked up, and his eyes widened when he saw Steve cradling his arm, Thor applying pressure to his forearm, Bruce with his hand on his shoulder, and Tony clutching his side. His suit was in pieces at his feet, and one large part was stained with blood.

"I say again, how did this happen?" he said.

"Are we really debriefing now, boss?" Clint said. Phil rolled his eyes, and traipsed over to Steve's side.

"Think I fractured my elbow," Steve said. "It'll be right by tomorrow."

"Does it hurt?" Phil asked.

"N— ow!" Phil had poked him. "All right, it hurts a little bit."

Phil pulled a pocket knife out of his holster, and made a cut approximately six inches from the top of his trousers. He tore the leg off from that point down, quickly fashioned it into a sling, and tied it around Steve's shoulder. Once it was positioned to his satisfaction, and Steve's arm was properly supported, he moved on to Thor. Phil ripped off his other trouser leg, turned it inside out to reduce the chance of infection, and knotted it tightly around the deep cut on Thor's arm. Bruce was next. Phil placed the bundle of spare clothes beside the doctor, and looked at the cut on his shoulder.

"The big guy isn't up to making a second appearance," Bruce said. "You could tear my pants up. I mean…" He blushed, and gestured to the pile of clothes. "I'm sure you could—"

"The weather's still cool, and your immune system will be down at the moment. You need these more than I do."

Then, with a deep, internal sigh, Phil forced himself to remove his shirt. He could sense one of his agents about to wolf-whistle, and held up his index finger in their direction. Nothing. Good. With another slash of his knife, he was able to tear the shirt right down the middle. The shape actually made it easier to act as a bandage, and with a few more rips it was securely in place.

"Saving the best `til last?" Tony asked as Phil climbed over a couple of yards of debris to reach him.

Phil didn't reply, and continued to pull at the seams of his ruined shirt until it made a suitable bandage. He secured it around Tony's middle, and then walked back over to Clint. His wound was still leaking a bit. So Phil pulled off his undershirt and wound that around the shin.

"You all keep pressure on your injuries, except Steve," he said. "You just keep that arm still, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Steve said softly. Phil noticed that they were all quiet now, and their eyes were on him.

It was the scar. It had to be the scar. They'd only seen it the once, when they were determined to confirm his identity. It was the first time they would have seen the whole exit wound, as well as the entry wound on his back. Annoyed, he picked up his discarded holster and strapped it back on. He thought he heard Natasha make a sound, but she was expressionless by the time his gaze met hers. With a huff, Phil retrieved his comm. unit and tuned in to Sitwell.

"Is that medical team on its way?" he said, allowing irritation to creep into his tone. This time, he thought he heard Steve or Clint, possibly both, let out a small noise.

"ETA five minutes."

"Tell them to make it two minutes or they're out," Phil snapped. He looked back at his team, and noticed that they were still staring at him. It made him uncomfortable to have their complete focus, something he often had to fight for. Uncomfortable in more ways than one, and he wished he'd gone with Bruce's idea of not stripping so far.

Speaking of the doctor, he still hadn't dressed yet. Phil strode over to him and unpacked the clothes. He held out underwear first, and respectfully averted his eyes while Bruce struggled to get them on. Once he was done, Phil knelt before him and helped him on with the pants. While Bruce zipped himself up, Phil moved around the back and selected a loose button-up shirt. He started with the injured arm, helping Bruce thread his hand through it, and then the other one. From behind, Phil did up all but the top two buttons.

"There you are," he said, and smoothed the fabric down gently. It felt like Bruce moved into the touch, but it was probably just Phil's imagination.

By this time, the medics had arrived and were already helping Clint and Natasha hobble over to the van. Phil and Thor helped Steve up, hands gentle, and Phil saw them off. He wondered about the small smile Thor gave him, but wrote it off as the demi-god being his usual friendly self. Then he returned to help Bruce and Tony stand. They both leaned on him. Tony's hand was on his lower back, and Phil thought – just for a moment – that Tony's thumb moved into the dip. But then they nearly tripped, and he was too busy keeping both mad scientists on their feet to think about it.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm your babysitter," Phil grumbled.

"Yeah, but you're a lot hotter than Supernanny," Tony said, lips much closer to Phil's ear than he'd realised.

"I'm glad you think so, Tony. It's good to know that your sense of humour is intact. Now get into the van," he said, nudging them both towards the medics before Tony could reply. "I'll follow."

"Stay with us," Steve said, and he held out his free hand. "Please, Phil."

Phil shook his head. "There isn't enough room. I'll hitch a ride to headquarters." He turned his severe gaze on the medical team. "You get them there _safely_. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Agent Coulson," one of them said. It was almost a squeak, which was gratifying.

Phil stood, waving, until the medical van was out of sight. Then he returned to the area where he had found his Avengers. He saw the blood from their injuries on fallen stonework. It did something strange to his chest, and he wondered whether the cold air was getting to him. He picked up the bag with the remainder of the spare clothes he'd brought for Bruce. He paused, and then fished another shirt out; it was more casual than his usual style, but it would have to do. He pulled it on, and began the walk to meet up with anyone who could give him a lift.

Fortunately, Sitwell wasn't too far away. He must have personally escorted the SHIELD ambulance. Phil slipped into the passenger seat. Jasper raised an eyebrow when he noted Phil's state of undress, but didn't utter a word. Not until they were halfway to HQ.

"You must really care about them," he said. "You'd send Lola into the line of fire to save them if it came down to that, wouldn't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Phil said, concentrating on the passing scenery.

"You would. You sacrificed your cards for the sake of the world—"

"That's overstating it—"

"And you'd do even more for the Avengers. Admit it."

"Not even under the most creative torture you could devise, Jasper."

There was welcome silence until the building was in sight.

"They'd do anything for you, Phil." He didn't reply. "And I bet they were checking you out in all your semi-naked glory."

"Unlikely. You can drop me off here."

Jasper turned in at the next entrance, the one closest to medical. Phil climbed out, and passed the ambulance, now empty, on his way to the emergency waiting area. He was expecting to hear the usual loud chatter from his team, but there was nothing.

"Where are the Avengers?" he asked the admissions nurse.

"They're just through there, Agent Coulson," she said, indicating the nearest ward.

"Thank you," he said. He definitely should have heard them from here, and his apprehension grew as he opened the doors.

There were no arguments in progress. They were all sitting there, obedient and quiet, allowing the medical staff to do their job. The doctors and nurses appeared to be just as concerned about this change, and they seemed to be reassured by Phil's presence. The Avengers all looked at him when the door closed with a quiet whoosh. He thought he heard Bruce swear quietly, and saw that the doctor's gaze was focussed on him.

"I apologise, Bruce, but circumstances made it necessary to borrow one of your shirts," Phil said.

"A-anytime," Bruce said, and cleared his throat. "Anytime, Phil."

Phil nodded, and looked around at his other Avengers. One by one, they found something else interesting; the floor, their injury, the ceiling. They all appeared to be pink in the cheeks, and continued to stay silent. He began to wonder whether they'd even talk during the debriefing.

It was going to be one of those days.

* * *

Phil Coulson does indulge in understatements every so often. An example would be that he cared about his team. All six of his superheroes. It would still be an understatement that he cared about them very deeply. It would even be an understatement (he would confess to few) to say that they were the most important people in his life.

One more understatement: he was amazed to find out that they felt the same way about him.

* * *

**This became much longer than I imagined. It was supposed to be 500 words long, max. It's over 1800 words long.**

**HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN?**


End file.
